Warehouse 13: (O2) Preconceptions
by A Rhea King
Summary: The team continues to adjust to the newest member, Emory. Claudia has difficulty admitting that she's jealous of the attention he's getting. Emory is trying to find a balance between his life and his ever growing Advocate abilities.
1. Chapter 1

**Warehouse 13**  
**"Preconceptions"**  
By A. Rhea King

_Chapter 1_

**Bed and Breakfast**  
**South Dakota**

"What are you doing?"

Emory turned, watching Claudia slowly enter the kitchen, suspiciously eyeing him. He was kneeling in front of the refrigerator with a bottom drawer open.

"Looking for a dog," Emory told her, and then went back to rummaging through the refrigerator.

"A… dog?"

"Yes."

"In the fridge?"

"Yes."

"Why would a dog be in the fridge?"

"It followed me in here and when I opened the door it ran into the – there you are." Emory leaned in and came back out holding a glass dog that wiggled in his hands, barked and playfully tugged on his fingers. Emory closed the door with his foot.

"Bad dog," he said, but there was no emotion behind it. He put the dog in one hand and picked up a bowl of cereal with his other hand. "I am going to have to train you to a leash, Homer. This running away all the time is not fun for me." Emory continued telling the dog what to expect as he left the kitchen.

Claudia stared at the door he went out through, and jumped when Steve said, "Good morning, Claudia."

She turned. He walked over to the toaster and put two pieces of toast in it. Then he walked over to make a cup of coffee.

"Did you make the coffee?" he asked.

"No. Emory, I think. He has a dog."

"A dog?" Steve looked back at her.

"Yeah. An artifact dog. He calls it Homer. It was lost in the fridge."

Steve smiled. "And the fun never ends around here, does it?"

"He had a dog lost in the fridge, Steve!"

Steve dropped his spoon in the sink and grabbed his slices of toast. He put them on a paper plate and began buttering the pieces.

"So?" Steve asked. "He had an artifact that was a dog. Did he catch it?"

"Yes, but he took an artifact from the Warehouse and brought it here. That's wrong!"

"Why…" Steve paused to lick the butter off his thumb. "Is that wrong?"

"He is a menace! That man is a menace!"

Steve turned to her. "Emory is just doing his job. How does that make him a menace, Claudia?"

Claudia let out a growl and stormed off. Steve shrugged off her rant and continued making his breakfast.

#

Abigail paused on the stairs, listening. She heard Emory's voice and the soft barking of dogs. She tilted her head to the side and went to the bottom of the stairs. She could see the atrium from here and stared for a moment. There was a toy fence setup on the table, with a toy barn on one side. Emory sat with his back to the sunlight coming through the windows and was working on something.

Occasionally he'd look at a chair to his right and exchange a few words, and then go back to work. Abigail heard the barking again, and it was coming from the atrium. She walked through the setting room, and as she came closer she could see that there was a piece of artificial turf under the fence and something was moving inside it. She stopped at the door to stare at the sight. Dogs which were normally frozen statues, most no larger than her hand, were romping across the artificial grass and playing with each other.

She looked up at Emory. He had several books around him, a sketch book, pens, and two rulers. Abigail walked into the room and sat down on his left. Closer she realized he was doing his other job – creating crossword puzzles for magazines and newspapers.

"I've never seen you create crossword puzzles before."

He nodded a couple times but didn't comment. She looked down at the pen with the dogs. Two were playing a dog version of tag with a small rubber ball. She smiled, laying her head on her hands on the table and watching them.

"They're having fun."

"Yes," Emory quietly answered.

She sat up, watching him again.

"Who were you talking to just a minute ago?"

"No one."

"I heard you talking to someone."

Emory didn't try to convince he hadn't been or urge her to continue the conversation. He had only been with them a month but even she admitted it was difficult to adjust to Emory. He was quiet and kept to himself. He would go down into the Warehouse without so much as a word even to Artie and disappear for days. No alarms ever went off, so they could only assume he was doing his job.

"Is it someone from the Warehouse?" Abigail asked.

He lightly shook his head. He picked up a dictionary and looked up a word. He went back to his crossword puzzle.

"Someone you know, though?"

He sighed, looking at her. "It is my grandmother."

They stared at each other.

"You talk to her a lot, don't you?"

Emory looked down. "It is the other way around, actually."

Abigail smiled. "She loves you?"

"Yes, and she will not move on."

"Why?"

"I do not know." Emory looked at the chair on his right. "She says she knows why but she will not tell me, therefore, I think she is lying about it." He shook his head. "Then you should tell me." Emory looked away. "Then you are lying, Grams."

"You really think they should move on after they die, don't you?"

"They do not belong here. Staying here only drains the person they are staying back here for."

"Drains?"

He looked up, thinking. "Sometimes when someone says they are feeling fatigue all the time, but there is nothing wrong with them and it is not mental, it is because someone is staying with them. It takes a lot of energy to stay here and not move on, and they cannot generate it on their own anymore, so they have to take it from somewhere."

"I didn't know that."

Emory looked back down. "I am surprised you are not tired a lot."

Abigail was surprised by the comment. She had never told anyone she was tired a lot and suddenly she made the connection between the feeling and what he just said.

"Who's following me?"

He shrugged. "He will not tell me his name. About as tall as me, dark hair – black or brown, jeans and a red T-Shirt. It looks like he died from slitting his wrists."

She nodded.

"That means something."

"Yes. He's the reason I stopped practicing as a psychologist."

"Why?"

"He killed himself. I couldn't save him."

"Yes. He says he cannot leave until you stop feeling guilty for that. He worries about you."

Abigail leaned forward. "He's here? Now?"

"He is always here, now. He follows you everywhere."

She shook her head. "I didn't mean to make him stay."

"Then stop feeling sorry for yourself, realize nothing you could have done would have saved him, and get on with your life."

Offended by his remark she sat back in her chair. "That was rude!"

"Did you really think that should have been sugar coated?" He looked into her eyes.

She stared. Emory wasn't angry, or judging her, he was asking an honest question. She slowly shook her head.

"Then we should move on, should we not?"

She nodded. He turned back to his work.

"And who's Tina? I've heard you talk to her before."

"I guess some would say she is my guardian angel. That is the best we can guess too."

"I don't understand."

Emory sat back in his chair, looking at the playing dogs. "I do not care to explain it."

Abigail was curious but she didn't know if pushing him would make him shut down, and she'd gotten far in this conversation. So she chose to respect not to talk about; for now.

"You act like you don't like it here, Emory. Is that true?" Abigail leaned on the table. "Do you hate this job?"

Emory stared at her for a long time. She was accustomed to seeing no expression on his face and this time was no different.

Quietly he told her, "No. It is just… I get tired. I go into the Warehouse to work with the people and artifacts, and it makes me so tired that I cannot find my way back. I have to sleep it off before I can find my way back to the office. That is something I have not been able to adjust to yet."

"You mean… When you're in there for days you're lost because you're tired?"

He nodded.

"Why haven't you told anyone?"

"I did not think it was important."

Abigail reached out and laid a hand on his arm. She felt him tense so she kept the touch brief.

"Of course that's important, Emory! We're a family here and we're here to help."

He looked away without promising one way or the other. Abigail put her hand back on her side of the table.

"What is this?" Artie demanded.

The two looked up. He stood in the doorway of the atrium, staring at the setup on the table.

Claudia walked up behind him, arms crossed with a smug grin. Abigail sighed, realizing she probably had something to do with ruining a perfectly peaceful conversation.

"What?" Emory asked.

"What are these dogs doing here, out of the Warehouse?"

"Playing chase, it looks like," Emory answered.

"I did not give you permission to take them out of the Warehouse."

"If I put them in the grass they would get lost. I thought this was safer for them."

"They are artifacts, they don't belong out of the Warehouse."

"They are artifacts of dogs that come to life and need exercise like any other dog, so I brought them here, built them a pen to play in, and will do it again tomorrow, the next day, and every day after that."

"Emory, I cannot—"

"When have I told you how to do your job?"

"What?"

"I do not tell you how to do your job, so why are you telling me how to do mine?"

"They are artifacts!"

"And they belong in the Warehouse!" Claudia added.

"Claudia, I will deal with this," Artie snapped at her without looking.

"Yet they are also living creatures and they need light and exercise to remain happy and peaceful. Have you not noticed the lessening of electric build up in their aisle? It is because I have been taking them out to play and run off the energy that keeps building up there."

Claudia looked ready to explode. Artie, on the other hand, had the wind blown out of him. He walked up to the table, watching the dogs.

"They do look content," Artie said.

"What?" Claudia almost squeaked.

"Emory, they can't leave the Warehouse. Some of these dogs are dangerous for any other human to handle without gloves. If one should get away and someone were to pick it up, that could be very bad. Do you understand that?"

Emory nodded once.

"So a compromise," Artie proposed. "You tell me how much I need to give you to make them a kennel, with a play area and sun lamps, inside the Warehouse."

Claudia stormed off.

Emory lifted his chin and Abigail thought he was going to rebut Artie's suggestion. Instead he told him, "I will research the cost and bring you a quote. In the meantime, let me bring them here to get out and play while I am doing my other job. That is one hour a day."

Artie nodded. "Agreed. I want the quote by Friday."

"Agreed."

"And you clean up any messes they leave on that table with bleach. I eat there too, you know."

"Also agreed."

Artie turned and walked away. Abigail smiled, looking at the table. She looked at Emory and felt a little respect for him. He wasn't gloating about the outcome of the negotiation, he had just returned to his work.

"You are a good Advocate, Emory."

"How is that?"

"It's hard to see in you at first, Emory, but you really have a good heart and you have compassion for humans and artifacts."

Emory looked at her. "Thank you."

"You're welcome. Have a good afternoon."

He watched her walk away and turned back to his work.


	2. Chapter 2

_Chapter 2_

**Bed and Breakfast**  
**South Dakota**

With headphones plugged in, Steve clutched a portable TV with both hands, trying to keep the static away so he could watch his football team win.

"Go, go, go!" he quietly urged the football player as he ran the ball across the field.

The man was tackled and Steve closed his eyes. "You suck."

He opened his eyes, finding Claudia standing next to him. He smiled sheepishly, pulling his headphones off.

"Hi," Steve said, still grinning sheepishly.

"Do you think this Advocate is such a big deal?" she demanded. "Or that it means he should be able to do whatever he wants? Do you think so? Do you think he's better than me? I'm the caretaker, he's the, what. The… He watches after artifacts. Does that make him a bigger deal than me?"

"I, uh… What?"

"Do you think Emory is such a big deal? I mean, is he really that special? I know Advocates are rare and all, but still… This guy has no personality and he talks to inanimate objects."

"And dead people."

"And inanimate objects."

"And dead people."

"Who are part of inanimate objects."

"I don't know, Claudia. The way Artie, Mrs. F., and the Regents make it sound, I guess he is a big deal. Are you jealous he's getting more attention than you?"

Claudia sat on the edge of his bed, crossing her arms. "No."

"You are."

"I am not jealous."

"You are so jealous!"

"I'm not jealous, Steve. I just… I don't know. I'm not at all comfortable with Emory. I think this whole Advocate thing is a hoax and—"

"You were there when he appeared and disappeared, Claudia. If you aren't jealous, what is this really about then?"

"I just think everyone's willing to trust him just a little too fast."

"Shall I remind you when that's been an issue for all of us in the past, including you?"

"Exactly! That's exactly why we shouldn't—"

"And none of those other people had great abs, and pecks, and..." He trailed off when Claudia's jaw slacked, realizing the cat he'd just let out. Quietly he finished saying, "Glutes."

"You _like_ him?" she snarled. "You… How can you _like_ him? You were… How… Steve!"

"I just do. I think he's gorgeous and I'm really attracted to him! I can't help it!"

"You don't even _know_ him!"

"I'm working on it. He keeps to himself and doesn't talk a lot, so, you know, it's a process."

"He is _not_ gay!"

"We don't know that, which is part of the getting to know him, part."

"STEVE!"

"Hey, I can't help who I like and who I don't, and I just happen to like Emory. It's happened to you, to Pete, to everyone else. And now it's happening to me. I thought you'd be, you know, a little happy for me. Maybe even would do a little fishing for me and find out if, maybe, he is gay?" He grinned.

Steve's cheer and good mood was squashed when she bellowed, "You're my friend and I _don't like Emory_!"

Her comment stunned him, then hurt him, and made him really, really angry.

"So let me get this straight, Claudia. I can only like someone if _you_ like them?"

"Yes. No. I mean—"

Quietly he interrupted her, ordering, "Get out."

"Steve, I didn't mean— I just don't trust him and—"

"Please go, Claudia. Just… You need to leave."

She reached for his hand and he pulled away. Claudia let out a slow breath and left the room. Steve sat his television aside and stared out the window.

**Warehouse 13**  
**South Dakota**

A large caged dome was taking form in an empty area of the Warehouse. Shelves had been removed to make space for it. At the moment the play fence and barn for the dogs was the only thing in the dome. It sat in the middle with a sunlight over it. Artifact dogs played rambunctiously or slept in the warmth of their new home.

Emory was on a ladder, working on securing wires across the lattice of wiring that had already gone up.

"What's this for?" he heard Claudia ask.

He glanced down at her. "It is a cage for the animals."

She looked at the dogs and then him. "Kinda big for some dogs."

"It is for all the animals, not just the dogs."

She walked over to the pen, watching the dogs. Two ran up to the fence and jumped up, trying to get her attention. She smiled, remembering when she'd brought them back. She pulled on gloves and picked one up. He wiggled in her hands and tugged on her gloves.

"I picked this guy up in Australia. He wasn't this playful."

"They have all become more socialized since I put them in the pen together. They just needed company."

She looked up at Emory, watching him. He was in jeans and an untucked T-Shirt. She began to wonder about his abs and pecks. She quickly shook the thought away.

"How long is this going to take?"

"I do not know."

She sat the dog back in the pen. "You putting those dinosaurs in here too?"

"Yes. All the animals will have separate pens."

Claudia sat down on an overturned bucket. "So have you learned to control that coming and going yet? Weren't you supposed to be working on it?"

"I have been working on it. Sometimes I can control it, sometimes I cannot."

"Cannot, huh?"

"That is correct."

"Why do you talk so correct all the time? I mean, you rarely use slang or contractions."

"I do not know. It is just how I have spoken for as long as I can remember – since I woke from a coma, actually."

"Was your grandma like all strict or something?"

"On the contrary, she was not."

"Did your kidnapper teach you to speak like that?" she jabbed.

Emory stopped working. The air around her seemed to stop moving. The dogs stopped barking and playing, staring at her. It was like the entire Warehouse was holding its breath. Emory looked down at her, holding her gaze.

"He did not."

He didn't turn away or say anything else, but his stare said more than enough. While his face didn't show any signs of emotions, there was something about the way his dark brown eyes held her eyes that said she had dared to step into a very dark and dangerous room in his life. Now he was waiting for her next move, his silence asking 'do you think you should risk staying or running, Claudia?'

Claudia stood up, opting to not to take her chances. She sat the dog back in the pen.

"I have some… Filing." She quickly left.

When she looked back he was still watching her. She didn't stop walking or look back until she was around a corner and out of his sight. For a man who had little to say and less to show on his face, she had never felt so threatened in her life. And that was why she didn't trust Emory – there was something very dark inside him that everyone else didn't seem to notice.

**Denver Marriott Tech Center**  
**Denver, Colorado**

Myka and Pete pulled into a parking spot of the Marriott DTC and sat for a second. The place swarmed with people, most in armed forces uniforms.

"What's with all the uniforms?" Myka asked.

"DOD convention, hosted by Lockheed and the Air Force Academy." Pete looked at a brochure in his hand, reading, "Join us for lectures on the latest weapons technology, advances in monitoring, and spy stuff."

"It does not say spy stuff."

Pete showed her where it did – in his handwriting. She laughed.

The two got out and headed inside.

"Is Amanda here?" Myka asked.

"I texted her, but haven't heard back."

"Well, let's find this vase and then you can see if she's around."

"Mykes, there's like hundreds of people here. I am never going to—"

"PETE!" they both heard Amanda call and turned.

She wove her way through the crowd and hugged him. Pete smiled, hugging her back.

"You were saying?" Myka asked him.

"What were you saying?" Amanda asked.

"That there was no way I would run into you with all these people here."

"I was waiting to surprise you. You walked right by me."

"I am definitely surprised," Pete admitted.

She smiled, hugging him again.

"I'm banking all these hugs, here, but what's the occasion?"

She stepped back. "I have good news."

"I'm going to go… look for… Okay?" Myka asked Pete.

"Yeah. You'll be okay?"

"Totally. I'll call if I need you."

"Thanks, Mykes."

She smiled. Following a cryptic message including Amanda had news to tell him, Pete had been anxious to meet her since they left South Dakota. Plus, they knew exactly which room the man with the vase was in, so this would be an easy collection.

"You look great."

"In Marine green – it's hard to look too bad."

He smiled. "Hey, Marine green does have advantages."

"How have you been? Your mom said you were sick a while ago."

"Oh. Yeah. Did a number to a kidney on the job but it's all good now. How have you and Michael been?"

"Great. Thank you for asking. He made Captain a few months ago."

"That's great," Pete replied, hoping he hid how much he didn't care.

She smiled. "Yeah. Well, we're going to need the money now. Yesterday I found out—"

"Son of a…" Pete heard Emory start to say behind him and turned.

Emory quickly wrapped his robe around himself, glaring at Pete. Pete was surprised more at the fact Emory was actually glaring. But then, he was also dripping wet, probably just having stepped out of the shower with barely enough time to get his robe on before being transported out of his trailer. And if he was here, that meant Myka was not having an easy time collecting the artifact.

"Emory," Pete said.

"Who is this?" Amanda asked.

"Who is she?" Emory asked back.

"Emory works with me, and this is my ex-wife Amanda."

"It is a pleasure," Emory said but didn't sound like it was a pleasure. "Where is the—"

"Public, Emory. We're in public."

He looked around them and then at Pete. "Naked under robe, Pete. Naked under robe."

"TMIF."

Emory sighed. "Where is the package? That is why I was brought—Am here."

"I don't know. Myka went to find it."

"What are you two talking about?" Amanda asked.

"Nothing," Pete told her. "I'm sorry, Amanda, but I really need to run. Let's meet for dinner tonight."

"I'd like that."

"Great.

"Amanda!" someone called and she turned. She and a man in an Airforce uniform waved to each other. He began making his way toward them.

"Oh. Michael is here." Pete said, and didn't hide his disappointment.

She turned to him, smiling. "Yes. We're going to see his parents after the convention, to tell them the good news."

"What good news?" Pete asked.

"Package, Pete," Emory reminded him.

Pete waved him off. "What news?"

"I'm pregnant," Amanda told him.

Pete was stunned. "You are? I mean… You are?"

"Yes. Five weeks."

He hugged her. "Congratulations!"

Michael came up to them. "Hello, Pete."

Pete stepped back and grabbed his hand. "Congratulations, Michael. She just told me you're going to be a dad."

He smiled, nodding.

Emory audibly sighed. Pete shot him a glare. Michael looked at Emory, noticing he was wet and in a robe.

"I'm sorry. Have we been introduced?" Michael asked.

"No, and I do not want to be. Tell me where I need to go, Pete!"

"PETE!" they all heard Myka yell.

Everyone turned. A man was running toward them carrying a vase. Myka was right behind him.

"Go. Get it," Pete told Emory.

"You run them down; I calm them down."

Pete sighed and ran toward the man. The runner made a fake left and right and darted around Pete. He looked back as his foot caught on the lip of a cord cover that went across the hall. The vase popped out of his arms and flew through the air.

Emory lunged forward to catch at it, along with Amanda. The two hit shoulders, but each grabbed a handle on the vase, keeping it from hitting the floor. Later they would describe the feeling as a jolt of electricity hitting them and the world vibrating before their eyes. Emory let go of the vase, staring at Amanda with a confused look. Amanda held onto it, staring wide-eyed at Emory.

Pete and Myka ran up to the two. "Amanda, uhm, could you give that back to Emory?"

"Problem," Amanda said, looking at Pete.

"What?" he asked her.

Through her teeth and as quiet as he could, "I am now in a uniform and she is naked in a robe."

Pete looked at both of them with horror.

"What?" Myka asked.

"What's wrong, honey?" Michael asked Amanda, sliding his arm around her waist.

Amanda tensed, holding the vase out to Pete. "I think there was a conference room that was free back down the hall. How about the three of you collect yourselves there?" Amanda suggested.

"Collect yourselves?" Michael asked, almost laughing.

Myka immediately caught the very distinct dialect of Emory. She looked at Emory and the fearful expression on his face. A face that was known for its lack of expression. She reached out, grabbing his arm.

"Pete, that conference room was this way," Myka said, pulling Emory into a walk. "This way. We need to go this way, Ama-ory."

Pete watched her leave with Emory and then looked back at Amanda. She forced a smile.

"See you at dinner. Or around the convention."

"Yeah. Or around." Pete backed up a couple steps and then turned to follow Myka and Emory.

"They get a little stranger every time we run into them, don't they?" Michael asked.

"Maybe. I need to use the restroom. I will catch up with you, honey," Emory said.

"Oh… Okay. We were supposed to meet General Garison for lunch."

She glanced at her wrist. The wrong wrist. She quickly looked at her other wrist. "We have time. I will meet you there."

He watched her rush off before he could reply.

#

In the conference room Myka crouched in front of Emory. Pete sat next to him, rubbing his shoulders. He stared straight ahead in a state of shock. They looked up when the door opened and Amanda rushed in.

"Why have I not left yet?" Amanda asked them. "Why am I in a woman's body? And it was my understanding that this vase gave silver, not exchange bodies."

"What…" Emory looked up at Amanda. "What is going on? What did you do to me? You look like me."

"This is a very bad dream, Amanda," Pete told her. "Just give us a few minutes to get out of it."

"That is an understatement," Amanda said.

"When did the body swap happen, Emory?" Myka asked, looking up at Amanda. She pulled a Farnsworth from her back pocket and hit the call button.

"When we both grabbed the vase."

"What is going on, Pete?" Amanda in Emory's body asked. Tears were welling up and starting to fall.

"I don't know, yet," Pete told her. He took her hand, holding tight onto it. "But we'll fix this."

"I'm pregnant, Pete. My baby…"

"I know. I know."

"She is pregnant?" Emory blurted.

Pete looked up at him. "Why don't you go over there and watch the sky for a few minutes while we get this under control?"

Emory's jaw set and he didn't move.

Artie appeared on the Farnsworth.

"Did you find the vase?" Artie asked Myka.

"Yes. Yes we did. And apparently it called Emory."

"Okay. And?"

"And Amanda was here, Pete's ex-wife. Some sort of DOD convention, I guess. Anyway, the guy who had it tripped and the vase went flying."

"Oh God. Did it break? If it breaks—"

"No, Artie; however, Amanda and Emory both grabbed it and switched bodies."

Artie let out a sigh of relief. "I was worried there for a moment."

"Artie, maybe you didn't hear me. Amanda and Emory are in each other's bodies."

"I did, and that's okay. Emory's going to start coming into all of his Advocate skills here in the next few months. One of them is that if he touches an artifact with a person that it's afraid of, he switches bodies with that person. It's a defense reaction meant to throw the person who has the artifact off guard. All they need to do is hold the artifact together again and they'll switch back. Emory, you need to work on controlling this, okay?"

"Yes. I will control the weather, teleportation, followed by body swapping. Perhaps you should learn it also, Artie."

Without acknowledging Emory's subtle sarcasm, Artie told them, "Great. Switch them back and come home."

"See?" Pete told Amanda. "Easy peasy."

She tried to smile.

Pete held the vase up to Emory. He grabbed the handle and held it out to Amanda. She took a hold of it. The transfer back was nothing like the first transfer. Both felt pain tear through them, until it was focused across their abdomen. The world vibrated faster and faster. They both heard three heartbeats.

And then, black.


	3. Chapter 3

_Chapter 3_

**Denver Marriott Tech Center**  
**Denver, Colorado**

"Amanda," someone said.

She opened her eyes. Michael and Pete were on either side of her. She was being moved through the halls of the hotel on a gurney by paramedics.

"Something's wrong," she said.

Pete stepped away when Michael looked at him. He watched them go out the door and before she was in the ambulance she was sobbing and clinging to her husband for support. Another gurney passed him with an unconscious Emory. Myka followed behind him, she carried the vase. Pete followed her out to the second ambulance and took the vase when she handed it to him. She glanced back at Amanda and Michael.

"Do you think she lost the baby?"

"That was a lot of blood, Myka. I'm pretty sure she did."

Myka looked at Emory. "His blood pressure was still high and he hasn't regained consciousness. I'll let you know if anything changes."

Pete nodded. She leaned close.

"Don't be mad at him, Pete. None of us knew what was going to happen today, and he wouldn't have hurt her intentionally. He's quiet and cranky, but he would never hurt someone like that."

Pete whispered, "I'm not angry at him. I'm angry at… At whoever threw away the How to be an Advocate manual."

She rubbed his shoulder. "I'm sorry, Pete."

"We're ready," a paramedic told Myka.

She climbed inside. The doors closed and the ambulance left. Pete looked at the vase.

"Stupid vase," he snarled at it, and had to resist the strong urge to throw it against the brick wall of the hotel.

**Emory's Trailer**  
**B'n'B, South Dakota**

Claudia knocked on Emory's trailer door and waited.

"Dude, it's like almost eleven o'clock. Get up!"

She pounded on the door but he didn't answer.

"Artie needs you at the Warehouse, Emory," Claudia called, "Get up!"

She knocked again and then slowly stepped back when it opened. No one was there. She did, however, hear retching from inside the trailer.

"Emory, are you okay?"

He didn't answer. She cautiously walked inside.

"Emory?"

She jumped when the door clicked closed behind her. She felt a draft pass across her back and let herself believe it was the air conditioner kicking on. She heard another round of retching coming from the bathroom.

Claudia followed the sound to the bathroom. Emory was hunched over the toilet vomiting. Despite her distrust and dislike of the man, Claudia went into nurse mode. She found water bottles in the refrigerator, and grabbed paper towels and a plastic sack. She knelt down beside him, handing him a paper towel.

"Put the used ones in here so it doesn't stink up the place." She spread it open next to him.

Between vomiting spells she had him take sips of water. He couldn't stop even when he was dry heaving. She found a washcloth and wet it, laying it on the back of his neck.

The vomiting finally stopped but he didn't move from the toilet.

"Come on. Let's get you to bed."

"No," he muttered.

She felt something cool brush past and he pushed the air next to him away.

"Hey, if she's saying what I think she is, let us help you into bed. You look like shit."

Emory slowly got up with her help and let her help him into bed. She cleaned up the bathroom and then tracked down a bucket. She sat it by the bed.

"There's a bucket here if it starts up again."

He barely nodded.

"How long have you been vomiting?"

"Since I got back from Denver. It does not last long though."

"Maybe you ate something bad?"

"I am not eating anything different."

"You're not doing drugs or drinking, are you?"

"No, Claudia, I do not do drugs or drink, nor have I ever."

She didn't press the issue.

"Do you want me to get you anything?"

"No. I just need some sleep."

"Okay. Well, where's your phone?"

"It is on the window ledge." He pointed at it.

"I'll put my number in it. Call me if you need something."

"Your number is already in my phone."

"Oh. Okay? Or Steve… You know, if you need a man's help or something."

"I will."

"Alright. I'll come back to check on you."

"Claudia?"

"Yeah?"

"The Warehouse loves you."

"What?"

He looked up at her. "A couple of artifacts can talk to the Warehouse. After the remark you made in the dome, it said you are jealous and you think I am going to take the Warehouse from you. I will not, Claudia. The Warehouse needs you as much as it needs me. It says that it's grown to a size that it needs its Caretaker to tend to it, while the Advocate takes care of the artifacts."

"The Warehouse loves me?" she asked, almost smiling.

"Very much, it does."

"Thanks for telling me."

She walked back to the kitchen area but stopped, remembering something. She returned to Emory.

"The dogs and horses in the dome… What do they need?"

"Turn on the sun lights for the dogs. Fill their water bowl. They pretend they can drink."

"Will do."

He barely nodded as his eyes closed. She pulled a blanket over him and then left him to sleep.

* * *

_The End_


End file.
